


I Choose You

by Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Series: I Choose You [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Amazing artist, Angst, Anxiety, Art, Carry On Big Bang (Simon Snow), Carry On Big Bang 2020, Communication, Crying, Fanart, Fiona is a supportive aunt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Simon Snow, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Honesty, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, Not a traditional stag do, Only Short, POV First Person, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Canon, Sad and Happy, Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, Simon finds a letter addressed to him, SnowBaz, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Therapy, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow in Love, Wedding, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Rings, knittininja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: At first, I didn't want to open it. Even if it is addressed to me, it seems wrong.Eventually I decided to see what’s inside anyway. Maybe it’s something important that Baz is struggling to tell me. There is so much I am struggling to say to him.Simon and Baz are about to move in together when Simon finds an unexpected letter from Baz addressed to him.After reading it, Simon does the only reasonable thing he can think of. Love confessions and engagement follows.Part 1 inI Choose Youverse.
Relationships: Fiona Pitch & Simon Snow, Fiona Pitch & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Malcolm Grimm & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Niall & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Shepard & Simon Snow, Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Shepard, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: I Choose You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934521
Comments: 78
Kudos: 148
Collections: Carry On Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader,  
>   
> This is my first time participating in a Carry On Big Bang. And it has been such an amazing experience in collaborating.  
>   
> I struggle writing post-WS and usually end up in a bad place mentally. My artist Quixotikan - [knittininja](http://knittininja.tumblr.com) on Tumblr was there for me every step of the way. And I am so grateful for their support. Thank you. You are absolutely amazing!  
>   
> A lot of gratitude goes to Blue ([mybluebucketofsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/pseuds/mybluebucketofsnow)) who has been pulling me up through this whole process and constantly re-reading all the changes. It was my own idea to write a post WS fic, but I needed a lot of support.  
>   
> Thank you so much [shushu_yaoi_lj (llamapyjamas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj) and [foolofabookwyrm](http://foolofabookwyrm.tumblr.com) and [ Theawkwardbibliophile ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theawkwardbibliophile/works) for joining on the beta train.  
>   
> Dearest friends, you are all awesome and this would not have happened without all of you.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> The talented [ knittininja](http://knittininja.tumblr.com) created several amazing art pieces. I love them so much. 😭😭😭 Two drawings in colour and four sketches. I will be posting each piece as a separate chapter because I'm really bad at expertly embedding links.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Part 1 in **[I Choose You](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934521) verse**.  
>   
> 

# SIMON

Baz and I are moving in together this weekend. We’re packing up the last of his belongings. 

I decided to move over a few more boxes while he's getting us some food. (We’ve been living off the salt and vinegar crisps half the day.)

One of the boxes had his books in it, and it was heavier than I thought. I saw Baz carry it easily. (Sometimes I forget how strong he is.) As I was picking it up, I found an envelope lying next to one of the books. It must have been inside. My name is on it.

At first, I didn't want to open it. Even if it is addressed to me, it seems wrong. Eventually I decided to see what’s inside anyway. Maybe it’s something important that Baz is struggling to tell me. There is so much I am struggling to say to _him_.

The letter looks a bit worse for wear. As if Baz had it with him, on his person for a while.

_Simon,_

_I apologise for taking this cowardly way out and writing you a letter. I ought to have an actual conversation and say all of this to your face._ _I simply cannot bring myself to do that._

_You are the bravest person I've ever met. My poor behaviour is yet another testament to how much better than me you are, Simon Snow._

_When you first started pulling away, I thought ”What's a little less hope? I loved you through worse, I loved you hopelessly.” We are back to where we started, I suppose._

_In all honesty, I am a coward. You broke up with me today, and I couldn't handle doing my part — the post breaking up dance. Is there one? You are my first relationship, and my last, I might never know._

_I wish I begged you to stay. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that. I already did once — in California — and you weren't happy about it. My love is simply too bothersome. I understand that._

_Truthfully it doesn't make me sad. It does for my selfish benefit, of course, due to my existence being better with you in it._

_However, for_ _you,_ _it is far better to part ways. I know that. I knew that before there even was an ’us’. You are far too good for me, Simon Snow; shining too bright; you will always be someone I could never deserve._

_You finally came to your senses and did the right thing. You always do the right thing. I admire that about you. I was too weak to do that myself._

_I've been in love with you since I was twelve years old, my whole being has been clinging to you and your life for all these years._

_I was not capable of letting you go. Not when your mere existence gives purpose to my own. Being away from you can only be compared with breaking off the only part of me that matters. And so I was greedy. I'm always selfish around you._

_Thank you for choosing life instead of me, Simon. That is what I always wished for you even when I was too weak to do anything about it myself._

_You are going to be better off; I know that. You are going to meet someone worthy of you. And they will make you happy._

_That is all I ever wanted — for you to be happy and have a good life._

_You would never have gotten that from me. I'm not worthy of you, Simon. I never was because I don't give life, only take it._

_I took greedily everything you were giving me, deluded myself that it was love. It wasn't. Perhaps you were infatuated with me._

_That night in the middle of a burning forest, you kissed me so I wouldn't kill myself. That is pure pity, not love._

_You need a better person for that, an actual person._

_I will cherish and remember the time you’ve granted me with your presence for the rest of my existence. It's a gift I do not deserve._

_Simon Snow, thank you for allowing me to be near you. I will forever be grateful to you for that, for showing me happiness, sharing it with me._

_You broke up with me today, and I am not going to lie — this is the worst day of my existence. And yet, I won’t allow myself to wallow in this misery._

_You did the right thing. It is for the best. You deserve so much more than what I can offer._

_As for me, I will have unforgettable memories of pure happiness to replay in my head. I am grateful for that; more than I can express._

_Thank you, Simon Snow, for giving me this much._

_I wish you all the happiness you want and deserve — a real life with a real person._

_Be happy, Simon._

_Sincerely, T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch._

As I read the letter, I finally realise how it's been for him all these years.

Back at Watford, I called him a git and an arsehole and a bully, evil even… I've spent years being shit to Baz. Us getting together hasn't changed that, has it? 

He still chooses me. Baz accepts me without my magic, and despite everything else that has happened. Me constantly accusing him of plotting, going on and on about Agatha. I've been ashamed of that and simply tried to forget it ever happened. 

I also assumed that none of my words ever mattered to him in the first place because his whole being was untouchable.

Baz seemed confident like nothing could ever touch him or bruise his ego. It turns out he has none.

How I could be this stupid is beyond understanding. I never grasped how insecure Baz truly is. Not until today. It's not because I don't care, it's because in my mind there isn't anyone who could ever compare to him.

Even when I fooled myself for years thinking that I hated Baz, I’d still call him perfect — _bloody_ perfect.

How was I to know that he never saw himself that way?

Now I finally understand that he must feel the same as I do when it comes to self-doubt. Although, no, that's not true. It's _worse_ for him. While I spent a whole year wallowing in self pity, thinking no one could understand the level of agony I was in, Baz was hurting too.

Baz understands; he lived in self-doubt for years. He hides it every day. But shouldn't I have figured it all out? I said I knew him the best… I'm the real arsehole between the two of us. I've been one my whole life.

He was right — we were a mess, the both of us. We still are. It's time for that to change.

I wanted to break up with him because I thought he'd be better off. But I'm an idiot. Have always been, always will be. Hopefully, less now.

But there won't be any penance; we've both suffered enough. 

Instead, we should finally start with happiness. He loves me for who I am. I love him for who he is. It's as simple as that. 

Baz wanted everything with me although it’s taken us years to get to this place. It took _me_ years. I…I wanted it too, but I was a coward. If it’s not possible to kill something with my sword, I don’t even know how to deal with it — at all. 

I was too scared to let him love me. 

I put the letter back in the box and sit down on the sofa. I can't get any of it out of my mind. My heart and body are aching, and I feel weak, defeated.

My wings suddenly pop. Was there a bell ringing outside? I can hardly concentrate on anything around me. I don’t even notice Baz entering the room until I see his feet.

”Simon…” he looks terrified and worried as he kneels before me. 

”It's nothing,” I lie and can see in his eyes that he doesn't believe me. I can't tell him about the letter. I don’t know how to do that.

Baz sits down on the couch next to me then.

”We don't have to do this,” he whispers so softly, I almost don’t hear it.

I look up at him. ”What?”

”We don't need to move in together,” is what he tells me and my heart would have stopped beating if it was controlled by what I felt. ”It's… It's unnecessary, I'm not even sure why we decided on this,” his voice is so even, too even. 

Baz could have fooled me back at Watford. But at least I can read him a bit better by now.

He continues, ”I'm sorry I pushed you into this.” Baz is looking in my eyes with so much emotion it hurts. It's the wrong emotion; we should be happy right now, _he_ should be happy. I need him to be. ”There's no reason for us to do it, none at all.” 

Baz is putting the burden on himself, where there isn't any blame to be given. It makes me feel like a real monster, someone who’s been destroying rather than protecting. I've caused him so much pain. I don't deserve his love. 

But he’s determined to give it to me nonetheless, and I'm done making decisions for him. I want Baz forever; he wants me too… There is only one path for us to take to ensure our happiness. 

I should have had a speech prepared — a proper one, written it all down. But even then, I might have stumbled across on my words as I usually do, but at least it would have been something.

Instead, Baz is falling apart right in front of my eyes. I did this. I made him unsure of us, of my feelings.

We still haven't said how we feel yet, not really.

I glide down the sofa (so I at the very least can follow one custom, albeit an old-fashion one) and hold his hand in mine, as tight as I can without it being painful. I want him to know that I'm steady and won't break, that he doesn't have to tiptoe around me.

”I want to move in with you,” I tell him, but his eyes are filled with doubt. Baz shakes his head ever so slightly. He doesn't believe me — my fault. My bloody fault.

What could I say so Baz would believe me? For a split second, I don’t know. 

But I am good under pressure after all. And this is nothing if not a battle between all our fears. 

I know how to handle a battle. I know how to react.

His breathing is shallow. We're so close I can hear it. ”Simon—” he finally says, and there are unshed tears in his eyes. Baz is going to argue because he's worried. He's going to hide in a shell because he thinks that's what I need from him. It's not. It never was, not really. 

I was in a terrible place and chose to push him away after Watford, after everything that happened. I still needed him. I will always need him. Baz has been and is and always will be my world. I thought it came from hate. It didn't. It took me time to figure it all out.

I was so used to hoping for a happily ever after that I kept forgetting to live right now. And it's not just that. I was terrified Baz would break it off with me any minute. Because I'm not who I used to be. 

But when I read his letter, I realised that it might be for the best. I didn't try to be a better person for him then. I am trying now. I want to make him happy — for us to be happy _together_. 

That's what I want — both a future for us and happiness today, right this moment. 

I know what to say to make him understand. 

”Marry me.”


	2. Chapter 2




	3. Chapter 3

Baz’s eyes refocus on me, ”What?”

I know I have to say everything out loud. I know I owe him at least that. It's harder than one might think. But I love him with all that I've got (regardless of how little there is of me left now that I’m magickless).

I need him to know, because of the way he's looking at me; I don't think he does. Not really. 

”Marry me, Baz,” I repeat then take a deep breath, ” _I love you_. I think I always did.”

The unshed tears in his eyes start rolling down his cheeks. A strangled noise escapes Baz’s lips and I'm not sure what to do exactly. There are more tears...so many tears.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he’s scared. But he isn't. He just needs a moment. 

I sit back up next to Baz and wrap my arms around him. He can't see me now. My own eyes are damp with tears. 

Baz is holding onto me, a little too tightly and I feel his shudders on my shoulder. I push in a little closer.

I'm not worried. I know, he’s going to say yes. It's not that I'm overconfident. I am not. Far from it, if I have to be honest.

It's what I’ve read and the way he is behaving right now. How Baz couldn't even believe this… 

What the hell is wrong with me that my own boyfriend whom I've loved more than half of my life and who I'm currently moving in with doesn't think I want him forever?

I need to do better. I'm not sure how to achieve that exactly. I am sure of one thing, though — we need to do that together. I have to allow that to happen because all this time it's been me holding us back. 

Today is the day I stop being afraid and finally let us share _everything_. 

Baz is the one that seems flustered now all of a sudden, ”Simon… Are you sure you want to?”

”To marry you? Yes, why wouldn’t I?” I ask because he's making very little sense right now.

Baz swallows, and I think he's nervous. ”Because of what I am. I…” his eyes are full of pain. 

I almost lose my voice, and for a moment I'm too stunned to answer. All I can do is squeeze his hand while I curse myself again. I was the one to constantly say terrible things to him about being a vampire. I've spent seven years hurting him.

”I can't give you a life you want, ” he continues and looks down on our joined hands.

” _You_ are the life I want. I wouldn't be happy without you,” I exclaim, remembering what he told me that dreadful day on the beach in California and how I was too stupid to understand. 

”We belong together,” I tell him with absolute certainty in my voice.

The smile that appears on his lips is small and hesitant, but it's there nonetheless.

”And you're sure?” he asks again, but he seems to believe me now.

”Do I need to snog you again to make you stop talking nonsense?” 

It isn’t a question. I lean in, and Baz meets me halfway.

I still struggle with _being_ kissed. My therapist and I are talking about that. 

Yes, I ended up going back to therapy. 

The day I stepped into Dr Wellbelove’s office to have my wings removed, I met a low magic magician who couldn't even perform the simplest spells but was still happy to be a part of the World of Magic. He said the little magickal part of him he had was enough to feel that he belonged.

I have two wings and a tail. That is my connection to the magickal world. At that moment, I felt ashamed of myself for complaining about being a Normal. If that man didn't feel like one, then how could I say that I was? 

That’d be like spitting in his face. I cancelled my appointment. Even though it was last minute, Dr Wellbelove did not mind. 

Instead, I scheduled a new Skype session with my therapist that same day and applied to go back to uni. 

I feel like quitting every other week, both the therapy and school. But I’ve never abandoned a mission back at Watford, so why start now? 

Baz joined me in therapy, and he’s doing his own too. It's been good for him. 

I thought he was flourishing after Watford. I haven't realised he has issues to work through as well. It's so much better now. He is happier. We both are. 

Baz even switched programmes and started at my uni. He’s going to be a teacher, like his mum.

Usually, I am the one to kiss him. We are both fine with that. As long as we talk through our feelings, it is easier to live through our struggles. 

I don't hide from Baz anymore. I let him see me for who I am. I am done being afraid. After all, he's still here.

Baz’s lips are never demanding against mine. He always allows me to lead. And I do. I suck on his bottom lip until it's practically pink; his checks are getting warmer under my touch. 

”Come here,” I whisper as I unwillingly pull my mouth away from him. 

Baz looks dazed from snogging. We are far from done. 

”Where are we going?” 

”To your bedroom, it's more comfortable than a couch,” I tell him and take his hand.

”What about lunch?” 

I know Baz is asking for my benefit. But how can I think about food at a moment like this? Baz and I just got engaged. 

”We’ll eat later,” I say and tease, ”Unless you’d rather have a curry than snog me?”

Baz chuckles, ”I suppose you're more delicious than a curry.” 

He swallows then and the lightest dusty pink is colouring his cheeks (he fed earlier today). 

I squeeze Baz’s hand to reassure him that it's not overwhelming for me. In fact, nothing he can tell me will be too much. Not now, that we both are honest with each other. 

Then I lean into his ear and whisper as sexily as I can manage (usually my voice is far from sexy), ”I rather am.” I hear Baz’s breath catch. 

He holds my hand and smiles as we walk to his soon-to-be old bedroom. 

* * *

That same evening Baz and I are lying in _our_ bed in our new flat, discussing our wedding. It feels surreal in the best possible way. We are getting married. 

He spelled my wings and tail away, so I'm on my back. We've been doing it this way for months. Since…since that day I’ve almost broken up with him. A few weeks after we came back from America. 

Back then, I used my wings as an excuse not to have him over, to sleep alone even though it was the last thing I wanted. Never again.

I'm holding on onto Baz; his leg is hitched over one of mine, his arm on my chest. I feel his cool skin against mine. I am still overheating, even without my magic. So it’s pleasant. Besides, I know Baz freezes easily. I haven’t really given it much thought earlier. 

Now though, all I want is to keep him warm. I trace his back with my fingertips, and I feel him shiver.

It's good, better now. Because we're honest and happy and I am letting myself be both. Touching Baz, giving him pleasure, is a part of that. 

I need to be close to him, closer even. I scoot towards Baz some more and continue moving my hand in circles around his back.

”We should probably tell Penny and Shep and your family soon,” I suggest and lean in to kiss the top of his head. 

His dad hasn't acknowledged our relationship yet. Baz has been trying to hide that from me, but I'm not stupid. 

At first, I thought it's because I was the Mage’s heir. And well, after what happened that Christmas, when the Mage killed Ebb and we found out that he was responsible for the vampire attack on the Watford’s nursery, it had an entirely different meaning. 

Eventually, I realised that it didn’t matter who I am personally, only that I'm a bloke. 

And I'm okay with that because that isn't something that I can change. It's Malcolm’s problem, not mine. It was mine for a while when I didn't dare to hold Baz’s hand under a judgemental stare. I don't care what others think anymore. I only care what Baz thinks.

”I’ll call Fiona tomorrow,” he says softly. 

Fiona demands an audience as soon as Baz tells her, and the next day we are standing in front of her door, holding hands. 

We've been holding on to each other ever since we've gotten engaged; that and constantly snogging. I lean in and kiss him softly before we ring the bell.

To say that I'm feeling nervous is an understatement. That woman is as scary as a viper. 

As soon as we’re through the door and all the greetings are out of the way, she turns to Baz, ”I haven't cooked. Go get us some curry from down the street, Basil.”

”No one expected you to cook, Fiona,” Baz says and gives me a questioning look. I nod. I'm still holding his hand. 

”I’ll be back shortly, love,” he says and looks at me uncertainly. I know he's worried because I’m not comfortable to be alone with Fiona. 

I lean in and give him a gentle peck on his lips and don't care that his aunt sees us. I'm done hiding from people. 

”Take your time,” I say so Baz doesn't worry. (Not because I want to spend extended time with his aunt. I’d rather not do that at all.)

After Baz leaves, the first thing Fiona does is to sneer at me: “Relax, Chosen One, I don’t bite.”

I don't flinch at the name. I have bigger problems. Because frankly, even though I am ashamed to admit that, my first instinct is to reach for my sword. 

Not that it did me any good when dealing with Baz’s aunt. Fiona once spelled my feet into the dirt. I know it was her; I heard her say, **_“Stand your ground!”_ **

Neither the Sword of Mages nor my wand could help me against her. And so I am mentally preparing myself for threats or curses if I ever break Baz’s heart. 

Instead, his aunt hugs me. I stiffen but hug her back. I am not good with hugs, hardly know what to do with my hands. This moment is too important, though, and I do my best. 

“I know you’ll take care of him,” she says, and for a moment I wonder if I misheard her.

It's the last thing I'd expected Baz’s aunt to say. Honestly, it was the opposite of what I assumed she thought about me. 

Fiona must notice the utter confusion on my face and continues, “Basil lacks self-preservation skills. He’s too trusting.”

It sounds almost like a joke. Except neither of us is laughing. 

“And you think I have any?” I blurt out in disbelief. 

“You and I have seen a different world. I know you’re capable,” Fiona proclaims with resolution. 

Does she truly believe in me? No one ever did. Baz doesn't count. Because he's in love with me. And for whatever reason is utterly blind to all my faults. Love might be the reason...

“I don’t have my magic,” I shouldn't have to tell Fiona that. She _knows_. Everyone does. 

Baz’s aunt sneers at me again. (Seems to be a family trait.) 

“You don’t _need_ your magic, you imbecile,” she practically spits and adds, “Do you think I was using magic around Normals?” 

Fiona gives me a look, not unlike Baz’s that says I am a complete idiot. “I had to use my two bare hands more often than not, Chosen One.”

I have no problems doing that too. Even when I had my magic, I still used my bare hands, with my spells hardly working half of the time.

* * *

When Baz returns with dinner, we sit in Fiona’s tiny kitchen, cramped together. It should be suffocating. It’s not though. And something loosened inside my heart after my conversation with Fiona. After all, she’s Baz’s family, his closest link to his mother. It means more than I thought. 

After dinner, we’re drinking tea with lavender shortbread, which his aunt places in front of me specifically, “Basil told me this is your favourite.”

“It is,” I croak out, not sure I _can_ say more. I know it’s nothing big, but it means a lot to me. I grew up without a family. 

For years Penny was the closest thing I had to one. The only person who did not see me as a weapon, a power source or a status symbol. Penny was just there. She still is.

I have Baz now too and his aunt apparently. Which baffles me to no end. Growing up I was taught to believe that Pitches were the most evil people in the Magickal world. (I’ve been reevaluating my childhood beliefs a lot lately, trying to let go of past trauma.)

Baz clears his throat. He’s nervous, and I take his hand under the table and hold it tight enough for him to know I am here. Baz glances my way, nods and turns to Fiona, “Simon and I haven't told Father yet.”

He swallows and continues, ”We aren’t sure how Father would react to us getting married.”

Baz’s aunt narrows her eyes and then visibly relaxes not a minute later.

”Don't worry,” Fiona says, taking a sip of her tea, ”I’ll handle Malcolm.” 

For a moment, I almost thought she might be planning on cursing him. 

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4




	5. Chapter 5

# SIMON 

We didn't want to have a traditional stag do. We've talked about that earlier. However, I knew Baz would bring up an alternative — for my benefit. 

Sometimes he still believes I _need_ constant action, that something should always be happening. I don't. Not when I have him.

”You can still invite some people — a smaller gathering,” Baz suggests as he enters the kitchen. I was just about to make some tea. 

He continues before I get a chance to answer, "I could stay with Fiona, or you could stay with Bunce and Shepard, whatever you want.” 

”Are you sure?” I ask, and I know Baz hadn't realised my real motives, that I don't want to be apart from him even for one night. 

Our happily ever after isn’t going to start tomorrow. It's already here. 

He gifts me with a small smile, ”Of course.”

”Then—” I say and reach for him. He meets me halfway, his arms circling my waist. 

I cup his face, the way he likes it — with my palm against his jaw, my fingertips at his temple, gently caressing over his cheek with my thumb. 

He sighs from pleasure, his eyes locked on mine. I know Baz enjoys this the most, even if he never says it out loud. I've been paying more attention to him. I've been more observant. Not because I have to, but because I _want_ to. 

You could say I'm going back to basics. Back to how we were — where the central part of my school free time was spent looking for him or _at_ him. It wasn't wrong back then, simply poorly executed — because I didn't understand what it all meant... That I love him.

Baz is so beautiful. I always thought so. Now I can be this close; I can share this much with him.

I bring my other hand up to him and thread my fingers through his hair. It's shoulder length and styled in a manner I know he does for me — messy. Even though I like it too when he ties his hair back, I still prefer it falling free. He's gorgeous like this. 

Finally, I lean in and whisper while grazing his ear with my lips, ”I want to spend the night with you.”

His breath hitches and Baz carefully moves in to kiss me, giving me the time to pull away or kiss him myself.

It’s good today though, him kissing me first. I want that, and I let him do it. There have been more good days than bad lately. 

Baz’s glorious full lips move slowly, leisurely over mine and I wonder if that is how true luxury feels like. To finally gain something you've dreamt your whole life about and to know without a shadow of a doubt that you will get to keep it. That is how I feel about our relationship. 

I am not worried that this is the last kiss we’ll ever share and do not have the constant need to kiss Baz as if this was the end of the world. 

We don't have to fear life tearing us apart. Not because life has become easier. It hasn't. No, I feel secure simply because we put in the work and we choose each other. Every day.

I wrap my arms around Baz’s hips and pull him to me. 

“ _Aleister Crowley_ ,” Baz exhales against my lips; and winds his hand in my hair, kissing me more. You can’t tell by looking at him, always so composed, but Baz is the most passionate person I’ve ever met. I love that about him. 

“I love you,” I whisper and ghost my lips over his before reaching for his jaw and then his neck. The love bites do not stay long on him but I know he enjoys me doing that. So do I. 

At this moment, it feels so right, as if we truly belonged to each other. The marks we leave now are made of love. I suck harder on his skin and Baz jolts against me, gasping, ”Simon… I love you too.”

I take his hand and lead him to our bedroom. Baz always leaves it to me to take the first step. We still need that. We probably always will, and both of us are alright with that. 

* * *

We’re lying in our bed afterwards, holding hands and leaving lazy kisses on each other. My tail is wrapped around his leg (it usually is when we are near) or around his wrist or waist. 

Perhaps that means I'm possessive. Maybe it's true. But I've never had anything in my whole life. Baz isn't a thing. He's the person I love the most. And I won't ever let him go. 

Besides, I know Baz likes me holding onto him, with my hands or my tail or my wings wrapped around the both of us. 

He enjoys every intimate moment between us. I do too, even if some of it still terrifies me at times. But we found the intimacy that works for us, that we are both comfortable with. 

Who knew that my wings and tail would be a part of that equation? Perhaps things do happen for a reason after all. 

I kiss Baz behind his ear and feel him shiver next to me, his fingers brush gently against mine. 

Baz smiles the way he only does sometimes — his whole face lighting up. It's because he's not used to me choosing him over others. I've been leaving him behind for so long. 

It started on that Christmas Eve when I chose to go with Penny and Agatha. Even though I came back, it only got worse. 

The year after I gave away my magic (I’ve been saying how I lost it, but I gave it away willingly and am finally accepting that fact), I've been pulling away, punishing myself _and_ Baz. I never stopped and thought about that — about him.

It's always been about me. Not me, precisely, but our whole lives it's been the Humdrum or another mission for the Coven. 

They even dragged us back from America to help. And I always go, always do what is expected from me. I never stop and think what I want, put myself first, put _Baz_ first…

I think I must have believed the prophecy, after all, thinking that I was born for the World of Mages, that my life wasn't truly mine. I wanted a happily ever after but I never fought for it. 

I wish I could say all that I feel and think to Baz out loud. It's still hard to do. 

”I don't need other people tonight. I only need you,” I tell him and don't even trip over my words. Perhaps I've made more progress than I thought.

Baz must have understood what I meant. His smile grows even wider when he murmurs, ”I love you, Simon soon-to-be Grimm-Pitch.” 

Baz asked me what I wished for, concerning our last names. My last name has no meaning or bears any emotional bond. I don't even know who gave it to me. There are no roots, no history. There's _nothing._ Only a painful reminder of being unwanted by someone.

So I decided to take Baz’s last name instead. For a while, we thought it’d be just ’Pitch’. That Malcolm would throw a fit. He hasn't. 

Thank magic for that. I wouldn't have cared personally. However, that would have hurt Baz deeply. 

Baz brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. It's the best feeling in the world. It's easier to be touched when there aren't any secrets separating us. And this kind of intimacy isn't scary for me. It never was. Baz holding my hand is what got me through the hardest time of my life. It's always been a reassurance for me. That he's still here, that I'm not alone. (Even if I didn't fully understand it back then.)

Therapy has done a lot for us as well — it helped us work through our individual traumas. It wasn't my fault or Baz’s that our childhoods were ruined and everything that happened to us later. Other people did that to us; chose to hurt us, to use us and leave us with the emotional aftermath of it all. 

However unfair that might sound, it was up to us to put in the work. We can't get better if we don't do anything. We are still struggling with some things. But it's better now. So much better. And sharing nothing but truth with each other made a big difference for the both of us.

And yes, I’m fully aware that a stag do isn't truly an obligation. Nonetheless, it's for _other_ people. I've lived for other people enough in my life. I'm living for Baz and me now. 

”Tomorrow is going to be hectic and overwhelming. Today I want it to be about us entirely,” I say and look at Baz for confirmation. 

He smiles at me, ”I couldn't agree more.” 

“I have something to confess.” I feel a bit like a dolt, because I should have told Baz about his letter last year. Maybe not the day I read it — we were very overwhelmed at first and then... well too happy to talk about anything, since we just got engaged.

Regardless, I should have told Baz earlier. Frankly, I had no idea how to bring it up. The night before our wedding seems like shit timing. Still, it’d be even worse to wait until after. 

Baz and I have been honest with each other. And this is an actual secret I kept from him. I tried to bring it up, time after time, and it just never worked. 

I swallow; my hand stills in his. My whole body tenses from nerves. It's difficult for me to speak while upset. My mind becomes a void of chaos and no coherent words come out. 

Baz must have noticed how nervous I am. He squeezes my hand gently. It helps. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” I admit. I am worried that it might make it sound as if I proposed out of pity. I haven’t. It’d be mad for Baz to think that. 

However, my fiancé thought I asked him to be my boyfriend for that particular reason. Which is madness, but Baz lacks the capacity to think clearly when it comes to who he is and who I am. 

Still, I believe we’ve come a long way since then. I don't think there is a risk of Baz not understanding how much I love him, how much he means to me. I am nervous nonetheless.

Baz squeezes my hand again and brings his other one to my cheek, cupping it in his palm. It grounds me somehow. “Whatever it is, love, you can tell me.”

It's now or never, I suppose.

“Do you— ” I take another deep breath, ”Do you remember the day I proposed to you, the day we moved in together?”

“Yes, I remember... _vividly_ ,” Baz smiles. I do too, trying to ease the stress still building in my body.

“Well… I accidentally found your letter,” I finally confess and add, ”the letter you wrote for me.” 

“Baz, I swear I wanted to tell you earlier, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.” I’m so worried I don’t even notice that I’ve started crying. Not until I feel Baz’s hand wiping the tears away.

“It’s alright, love,” Baz whispers as he leans in, slowly giving me time to pull away, and kisses my cheek.

# BAZ

“You’re not cross with me then?” Simon asks, and he looks guilty.

Aleister Crowley.

“How could you ever think that, love?” I kiss his cheek again. I know that not all days are good for that, especially when Simon is stressed. Today is. Most days have been lately. 

Not that it matters — who kisses whom. I didn’t know what was happening back then, when I thought Simon was pulling away from me. I thought I did something wrong. 

However, it is different now. We both have our boundaries and our comfort zones. It means the world to me that Simon shares pieces of his inner world with me. That in his eyes, I am _worthy_ of that trust. 

I am grateful for anything Simon is willing to give me. It is always going to be more than enough because it's _him_.

“Why on Earth would I be, love?” I ask him again, completely baffled by this.

“Because I kept it from you, for a whole year.” Simon was obsessed with planning the perfect wedding on accounts of him thinking that his proposal was not perfect. (My aunt was all too willing to help. Those two make a terrifying duo.)

Which isn’t true. Simon asking me to marry is the greatest day of my life. (I’ve been using the word “life” in regards to myself more frequently now, thanks to Simon.)

Simon wishing to bind himself to me; him being this sure he truly wants me, both right now and forever is the kind of dream I never even dared to hope for. 

“I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it,” I say with conviction. 

A year ago, I was still stricken with fear that I was never going to be good enough for Simon, that he deserved someone better than me. That he was _with_ me out of pity. 

I know now that it isn’t true. 

Simon shows me his love every day. It is mutual. I do the same for him. It turns out we were both ridden with unrealistic fears and insecurities. But as long as we talk, things work out for us. (Therapy helped us both.)

We do that a lot, talk that is. It is terrifying and difficult at times. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything else. 

“I haven’t!” Simon exclaims. “Baz, darling.” 

I feel myself blush. (I am feeding every day since Simon decided I am malnourished.)

Simon kisses me and my head still spins. I cherish his every kiss.

I spent years convinced that Simon Snow would never call me darling or want to kiss me, for that matter. I am well aware that I should be used to this by now. Simon and I are getting married tomorrow. We have come a long way in our relationship. 

And yet, every time I hear him call me that, something happens inside my undead heart that I can never explain. Years of agony, untangled with one word. Except it is far more than that. 

It is not about what Simon calls me, it is about the life we have built together, the way we are around each other, all the things we share. 

Simon is still an open fire and he shares his warmth with me rather than burn me alive. I had no idea he’d love me for who I am. He does. Simon wants me, all of me, and never shies away from any part of me. 

“Simon, you saved my soul,” I say with all the passion I have for him, not worrying about scaring Simon away with my love, squeezing his hand gently.

“I haven’t, Baz, you— “ I kiss his knuckles one by one before he starts arguing. 

“That is not how I mean it, love,” I reassure him because it is true. “Not anymore. But I wouldn’t have gotten there on my own, without you.”

I turn his hand and leave a few kisses on his palm. I can feel the shiver going through Simon and the smile he is gifting me with is stunning. 

“I do not mean that I couldn’t have done that without you. I simply lacked the motivation to do so.”

Simon kisses me then, deeply, leaning with his whole body into me and I am not sure I could talk more. His kisses still make me swoon. And I feel like the luckiest man on Earth to be allowed this close to him. I’ll never take Simon for granted. I love him too much to do that. 

# SIMON

We get dressed eventually. While Baz is ordering us pizza, I prepare his blood from the freezer. 

Blood clots easily but we figured out a way to preserve and warm the blood without ruining it.

It might not sound like a romantic evening, but it’s what feels right for us. I put on Netflix a French movie that I know Baz enjoys rewatching while we eat. 

I don't want to let go of his hand and Baz feeds me pizza while I fidget with the remote. It's such a small gesture but it means the world to me.

We spend the evening on the couch, just the two of us together. I couldn’t be happier. 

There is so much I want to tell Baz that I still struggle with saying out loud. Right here, right now, I make a vow to myself to do that on our wedding day. To make sure Baz truly understands how much he means to me.


	6. Chapter 6




	7. Chapter 7

# SIMON

The next day, just before our magickal wedding ceremony is about to start, I see Baz fidgeting with his suit. No one else has noticed, but I have. I still know him better than anyone.

He's looking at the floor and I can't see his face. But I know there's _something_ on his mind.

It’s been a long day already. First thing in the morning, we went to the registry office to officiate our union in the Normal World and take some of the wedding photographs. 

After that, he unspelled my wings and helped me let them out. I don’t want us to have to hide anything during a magickal marital binding. (And Baz _loves_ my wings and tail. I know that now.)

We’re sitting on a bench, waiting.

There have been too many things happening, too many things to pay attention to. Despite being together all day, we didn’t have any time for each other. It affects Baz more than me. 

# BAZ

“Baz,” Simon calls after me, his hand ghosting over my arm and I look up. 

He smiles at me brightly, yet worried. “Having second thoughts?” Simon asks and winks. (He knows how much I like him doing that.)

I laugh, almost hysterically. “Not likely, we’re already married or have you forgotten?”

Simon chuckles, “I’d never forget something like that.”

There are times I cannot believe my luck. I think that if I close my eyes, it will all vanish, and Simon will be gone. And of course, it isn’t a realistic fear. 

If all our fears were based on reality, we wouldn’t have had that many problems. 

_Please, don’t leave me_ , is what I want to say and feel utterly foolish for it. We’re married and are about to be bound with magic — forever. And yet I am terrified. 

I’m worried something will happen at the last minute. Some kind of catastrophe. And Simon will head out towards it without me and never return. 

Yes, it is a ridiculous fear. I’m working on my deeply rooted abandonment issues in therapy. (It is just as delightful as it sounds.)

“What’s on your mind, love?” Simon asks as his tail coils around my wrist. I feel better instantly.

I suppose it doesn’t really make sense. But the fact that Simon wants to touch me makes all the difference for my self-doubt. His tail is always on me, _grounding_ me.

“You,” I answer truthfully and do my best to smile. “Always you.”

He cocks his head at me. “Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, _stop_.”

Simon could always read me like an open book. (Except it took him forever to recognize my feelings for him. He was blind to that for some inexplicable reason.)

I still struggle at times to show Simon how much I love him. How much I want him. How afraid I am of losing him. To this day I am terrified I might scare him off. 

# SIMON

Lovely words seem to be for other people — beautiful people. I’m not that. I’m just _me_ , an orphan who grew up unwanted, neglected or used for the most of my life.

I’m not a beautiful person inside. I don’t always have the right words. And when I do, saying them out loud makes me feel like a dolt.

But Baz looks so scared and I don’t want him to be. I made a promise to myself to make him understand how much he means to me.

I take his hand in mine, “I'm ready for us to become one.”

It sounds like bollocks, I've always thought so about affection. Except maybe I didn't. I followed Baz like a lost puppy; looking for something, waiting for something, not realising it was _him_ all along. 

He is looking at me with his deep grey eyes and I try to find the courage I need in them.

“I’ve always wanted you, Baz, even when I refused to believe it myself.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. I reach out and brush it away with my thumb. 

“Simon, I… I was twelve when I wanted to kiss you for the first time.” 

That doesn’t surprise me. In his letter, Baz wrote he’s been in love with me since he was twelve years old. We haven’t spoken more about the letter after my confession last night. We haven’t had the time.

I can see there’s more he wants to say and seems to struggle just like me. His eyes flicker with doubt. I lean in and kiss his cheek, still holding onto his hand.

“Tell me,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

Baz starts brushing my tail with his other hand and swallows, but his gaze on me doesn’t waver. “My feelings for you have only gotten stronger since.”

I smile. Baz is always worried before telling me the things I actually want to hear. 

“And yet I was the one to kiss _you_ ,” I chuckle and lean in for a kiss.

“That’s because you’re brave,” Baz says as we break apart, his cheeks flushed. (He’s feeding properly nowadays, at least once a day.)

“Not brave,” I whisper in his mouth, “just desperate — for you.” I hear his breath catch. 

Baz ghosts his lips over mine, tentatively. We are out in the open but I am not about to be ashamed of kissing my husband, the man I love. 

Instead, I reach for his neck and snog Baz properly. His hands come up to my shoulders and he explores my lips with his, the way he does when he stops worrying. 

Baz looks happy and dazed when Fiona shows up from nowhere.

“Oi, lovebirds. No time for snogging.” That woman manages to keep her face ice cold. I know better though. I caught her crying in the bathroom earlier.

She smeared lipstick and tears all over me and then threatened me afterwards.

_“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll curse you.”_

_“Wouldn’t dream about it, Auntie.”_

Fiona sneered at me, flipped her hair and left the bathroom, banging the door shut.

Pitches… They sure know how to exit or enter a room with the most impact. 

The day Baz came back to Watford and used **Open Sesame** on the doors of the dining hall, I was too worried over his wellbeing and too paranoid to truly appreciate all the dramatics.

“Shall we then, love?” I offer and take his hand. 

Baz smiles and nods. I need his smiles like I need air. 

We get up and I pull Baz in for one more snog. He winds his hands around my neck; my wings envelop us both. We need this — _our_ intimacy — to get through today. 

One more kiss and we start walking towards the gardens together, with Baz’s hand in mine. I'm not planning on ever letting him go.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8




	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear, reader. There will be two quotes in this chapter in German. Both from Faust by Goethe. 
> 
> One quote will be translated, but the other will not. I'm adding it here.
> 
> Was glänzt, ist für den Augenblick geboren, Das Echte bleibt der Nachwelt unverloren. — _That which glitters is born for the moment. The genuine remains intact for future days._
> 
> * * *
> 
> Love and thanks to [ Theawkwardbibliophile ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theawkwardbibliophile/works) for joining in to beta read. 💙
> 
> * * *

# SIMON

Baz and I are walking toward the gardens. In just a few moments there is going to be a ceremony with Mitali and Martin Bunce, binding us with magic. 

It was our choice to do it and yet I am still nervous; worried that it won’t work since I don’t have my magic anymore. 

People say your whole life (or the most significant parts, at least) flashes in front of your eyes when you're about to die. That has never happened to me. Perhaps I was on the brink of death too many times and have become immune, numb, or unresponsive…

However, right this moment, before Baz and I are about to be bound by magic, all I can see in front of me is the path I've _almost_ chosen. The wrong choices I came very close to making.

One unfortunate day we were sitting on the couch, not touching. I’m not sure what we were talking about exactly. But the inevitable break up (as I saw it at the time) was always on my mind. There was the invisible wall between us. I put it there myself, because I was hurt.

Eventually, I brought up my own magic into a conversation. I felt bitter, thinking Baz didn’t want me the way I was. “I had so much power — I could even glow. And now I can't even _feel_ magic anymore.”

“Was glänzt, ist für den Augenblick geboren, Das Echte bleibt der Nachwelt unverloren,” Baz said.

“What?”

“Take as much time as you need, Simon, to figure out what _you_ want.”

“I don't need time, Baz,” I'm not sure how loud my voice was. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” That's what I heard Maya Angelou say on telly and what I told Baz when I tried to break up with him.

Baz, always composed, looked completely devastated when he whispered, “Man sieht nur das, was man weiß."

“I don't know what that means,” I spat. I was so angry at myself; angry at Baz to try and talk me out of obligation and pity. He's too loyal. I hated that about him.

I was pretty sure he was speaking German. Baz has chosen it as an option. I didn't know it back then (I wasn't paying attention to him anymore, not really) but Baz was reading a lot of Goethe. I think that was the real reason he’s chosen German in uni. He always preferred to read in the original language. 

“You only see what you know,” Baz whispered and looked away.

I clenched my fists. “Why are you talking in code?”

“I suppose I'm not who you want me to be, am I?” Baz said softly, quietly and I saw the slight tremble of his lips, the tension in his shoulders. I hurt him. But that's not what was supposed to happen. 

Baz was supposed to be grateful for finally being set free. 

I kissed him then, to shut him up. I was kissing Baz as if the world was about to end. That's how it felt anyway, that without him it would…

 _One last time_ , I thought to myself and pushed him down on the couch. 

Baz let me do it, and went completely pliant beneath me. It almost broke my heart how he whimpered and shivered under my lips, under my hands. 

I knew then that I couldn't let him go and I couldn’t stop kissing him. I wanted Baz exactly how he was — only _happier_.

I was already back to therapy back then. But I couldn't bring myself to talk about Baz because I didn't deserve him. (That's what I thought.)

“I want you to join me in therapy,” I said, hours later, when I finally managed to pull my lips away from him for any coherent thought to come out.

“ _Simon_ — ”

I laced our fingers together and looked into his eyes. 

“ _Please_.”

I knew Baz wanted to argue still, I could see it in his eyes. He didn't. 

“Alright.”

* * *

We have enough sad memories to last a lifetime and yet this is what flashed in front of my eyes. I think it's because without even realising it myself I was about to lose my only chance at happiness. But I didn't. 

I smile, trying to stifle the tears threatening to spill and I look at Baz — my husband. He’s kind, loyal and warm in a way I didn't know people could be. I love that about him.  He's everything I never dared to wish for.

Baz is still perfect in my eyes, bloody perfect. And outrageously beautiful. He’s dressed in a blue suit to match my tie. I’m wearing a light grey suit. 

“Blue looks good on you,” I say and he smiles again. Baz likes it when I give him compliments. (I never thought he needed any, as flawless as he is. Not for the first time in my life, I was utterly wrong.)

“We match.” I know Baz isn’t only speaking about our clothing.

“We always do,” I reply, pause and kiss Baz again, squeezing his hand.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” Baz whispers to me. 

“I don’t have my magic,” I seem to be repeating the same phrase too often. 

I don’t mean it bitterly; not anymore. I gave up my magic, and I don’t regret that. I still have Baz and Penny. I haven’t lost them along with my power. 

They didn’t leave me. Penny is even dating Shep, who _is_ a Normal. I should have never doubted them in the first place. 

“You’re still the greatest mage, Simon,” Baz states with full conviction. “Magic or no magic.”

I huff at that. I know Baz believes it; he believes in _me_. And I have to believe in him. Not about me being the greatest mage. That exists only in his head, because he loves me. 

However, I do need to believe that I am still a mage. If I don’t, how am I to go through with the magickal ceremony?

I keep holding him and let that ground me. Let _Baz_ ground me as we walk to the archway. It's decorated with flowers — roses and lilacs. (Baz’s favourite. Fiona and I chose them for him.)

“Simon... ” Baz is practically speechless. I think he likes it. 

I lean in close to him, “Your aunt and I wanted to surprise you.”

“It's beautiful, love,” he whispers in my ear.

We reach the arch. Mitali and Martin Bunce are waiting for us. Our friends and family are all here. That makes me extra nervous. So many people. 

Perhaps not as many as people usually have at weddings. But I’m not a people person. Not the way I was back at Watford. I laugh at myself for it now. How much I cared what people thought, how much of myself I was giving away to others. I’m not that insecure person anymore.

Baz and I step in front of each other. I take his hand, feel his smooth skin against mine and try not to shake. We are looking into each other‘s eyes. It should be romantic. And it is. 

But Merlin, I am absolutely terrified. My tail coils around his wrist again, because I need more contact with Baz, for extra reassurance. 

I think he loves the contact the same way as I do, because he looks calmer too. (Even though Baz said he wasn't nervous to begin with. I think he is mostly worried because I am.)

I want the magickal ceremony to work — for him and me, for us. 

Baz mouths softly, “I love you,” before we start. I nod and squeeze his hand again. 

When Mitali and Martin speak, I can feel Mitali’s magic on our joined hands — thick and it makes my mouth taste like sage. (Just like Penelope’s magic.)

I can hardly believe it. The magickal binding is working on us. It’s _real_. 

If Baz wasn't as emotional and overwhelmed as I am right now, I know he'd be smirking at me. He's smiling brightly instead, his eyes might be saying “I told you so.” I’m grinning myself. I can’t believe it to be true.

I may not have any magic, but I am still a mage. And Baz and I are going to be married through a binding that will last for a lifetime. It's not simply a dream anymore. It’s true.

The euphoria is slightly ruined by my nerves. I take out a piece of paper from my pocket with trembling hands. I'm not used to speaking in front of people. But this isn't about anyone else but Baz and me — _us._

It's the last part of the ceremony — to speak what's in our heart with magic, binding us forever. Baz will be doing the part with the magic. But I chose to read a passage as well. Something that has meaning to me, to _us_.

My words won’t have any magic in them. But they will have love. 

  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10




	11. Chapter 11

# SIMON 

”Baz,” I say, ”There's always been so much I wanted to tell you.”

I’m looking into his ocean deep eyes. It took me so long to realise that I could never drown in them. Baz is always there, with me. He’ll never leave. 

“I will today,” I continue, trying not to blush under his gaze — smouldering me with its intensity. “This isn't the end. It's only the beginning.” 

I thought I was the one who had to _give,_ to become worthy of Baz. 

I’d give him all that I am.

I’d give him all that I was.

I’d open up a vein.

That’s not what Baz needed or wanted — me giving everything. 

Loving him doesn't take anything from me. I want him to know that. It's still hard for me to put things into words. But with this poem, I think he will understand. 

I hold to the paper. There are a few passages from ‘On Love’ by Kahlil Gibran on it.

My mouth goes dry. I've memorised everything. The only reason I wrote it down is because I'm too nervous and worry about stumbling over my words. 

Baz smiles and the way he looks takes my breath away. He's so completely himself — the Baz only I know. All I can see in his eyes are kindness and love. _True_ _beauty_. 

I take a deep, shaky breath and read out loud: 

_“Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself._

_But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:’_

_To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night._

_To know the pain of too much tenderness._

_To be wounded by your own understanding of love;_

_And to bleed willingly and joyfully.”_

I finally found a way to tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.

I pause. This is all I've been scared of saying. This is all that our love means to me. What I finally discovered through the time we’ve been together. Baz's hand is in mine, reassuring me, giving me strength. 

_“Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself._

_Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;_

_For love is sufficient unto love.”_

I look into Baz’s eyes as I say that last part. He’s crying, just like me. Because even though this is nothing more than a part of the ceremony, I'm letting him know the real me and what is in my heart. 

# BAZ 

I take the wand out of my sleeve. I need there to be enough magic for the both of us. 

As I'm about to speak with magic, I try my best to rein in my tears.

This is my favourite passage from ‘We Are Made One with What We Touch and See’ by Oscar Wilde.

Simon is always going to be the one and only for me, no matter what is happening, no matter who we will become. It's him and me forever.

I've not been as open with Simon as I could have been. Worrying that he’d pull away if I become too much for him. I hope he’ll understand what I'm trying to say. 

**_“Is the light vanished from our golden sun,_ **

**_Or is this daedal-fashioned earth less fair,_ **

**_That we are nature’s heritors, and one_ **

**_With every pulse of life that beats the air?_ **

**_Rather new suns across the sky shall pass,_ **

**_New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass._ **

**_And we two lovers shall not sit afar,_ **

**_Critics of nature, but the joyous sea_ **

**_Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star_ **

**_Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be_ **

**_Part of the mighty universal whole,_ **

**_And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!”_ **

# SIMON

Baz’s words are sipping into my soul, into my heart. I’m glad I don’t have to speak right now. Because I’m not sure I can. 

It’s overwhelming in the best way, where I never want it to end. It’s what he meant, what he said _with magic_. It’s forever. And I never knew this is what I crave with my whole being — to have Baz forever.

When Baz’s magic grazes me, it's hot. And I can _feel_ it. It's more than usual for some reason. 

I’m looking into my husband’s eyes, watching him fight off _his_ tears and my heart aches to hold him even closer. I squeeze his hand, the one I’m still holding. 

Shep steps forward, takes the ring box out of the inner pocket of his suit and presents us with our rings. 

The rings are white and rose gold. _Because we match_ is what I told Baz when I showed them to him. 

White gold is actually grey and I wanted Baz to know that I love him as a vampire, not despite of it. (And maybe wedding bands aren’t the right way to bring that up but I think Baz likes that.)

Fiona took me to some posh jewellery store in Chelsea. She paid for everything. But that's not why her help meant so much. I still have that duffel-sized bag of leprechaun gold. I could have paid myself. (Fiona refused.)

What changed my whole opinion on her, what brought Fiona and me close, was how much Baz’s aunt got involved. 

Fiona took a temporary leave from her job for the Coven and devoted herself fully to the wedding plans and getting to know me. She actually _cares_ and she’s there — always there. (Fiona also threatened people on my behalf, but that's beside the point.) 

We’ve been planning something else too, something I haven’t told Baz about yet. I wanted it to be a surprise. 

I take the ring, my fingers tremble from happiness. My eyes wet with tears, a smile on my lips. (I must look like a maniac, but Baz doesn’t seem to mind; he’s crying too.) I slide it on his finger, lingering for a while longer, caressing the metal against his cool skin and feel Baz’s shiver, his breathing getting erratic. 

His eyes are full of love and magic. (I don't have time to wonder why I can practically see it.)

Baz then takes the second ring from Shepard, slides it on my finger slowly, holding his breath and casts **_“To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part!”_ **

It's a religious quote. And therefore it has so much power. Millions of Normals utter these words on their wedding day. It has become a tradition to use it in the World of Mages. Not because we're religious, but because it's useful. 

I know we're not supposed to really snog during a wedding. A simple peck on the lips is what is expected of a couple. However, we’ve been following too many unnecessary customs as it is. 

Besides, both Baz and I are feeling emotional. And it's _our_ wedding.

So I wrap my arms around Baz’s waist, and he wraps his around my neck, pulling me closer. My wings are enveloping him of their own accord. It’s because I am overjoyed. We are both crying, laughing, and kissing. 

I'm glad we have our hands free to snog. None of us is holding a bouquet, but we have one to throw as it is customary. Some traditions are impossible to avoid. Penny is holding it for us. 

As soon as we pull apart, Fiona is on our toes in an instant. 

“Come here, Chosen One,” she practically shrieks, pulling me in for a tight, almost painful hug, smearing more lipstick on me. That is one strong, scary woman.

I’m not afraid of her anymore. Baz’s aunt and I bonded while planning the wedding. 

She understands me, my motivations in a way I thought none ever would. 

I wanted to give Baz something he deserves. He enjoys beauty more than I do. Or maybe not, I’m with him after all — the most gorgeous bloke I’ve ever met. I don’t know if that makes me shallow or simply very in love. 

Perhaps it’s _both_.

“Don’t cry, Auntie,” I whisper softly in her ear. I am brave enough to tease her. But certainly not brave enough to do that out loud. She’d curse me. She really would. 

Fiona sneers: “What did I tell you?”

“It’s our wedding day, you wouldn’t dare.”

“I can’t kill you since you're a Pitch now,” Fiona states matter of factly. (I’m not sure she’s joking.)

“But I can still curse you and that honeymoon of yours won’t last forever,” she spits and hugs me again. 

Fiona has her own way of showing affection. Truthfully, next to her, Baz and I seem more well adjusted. I don’t think I could wish for a better aunt. 

She doesn’t look down on me for being an orphan, coming from nothing, from the Normal world. Baz’s aunt looks down at me for being an obnoxious brat. (Her exact words.) She calls Baz that too. 

The way she shows affection is easier for me to handle. Being vulnerable doesn’t come easy to me. And Baz is the only one I can truly be that way with. (Not even with Penny.)

“Darling,” I take his hand and kiss him,” I’ll give you and your aunt a moment.”

Fiona, despite stating once again that weddings do not affect her in any way, is now clinging to him in tears.

In the meantime, I step forward to take the bouquet from Penny, but Agatha comes over to embrace me. 

“I’m so happy for you, Simon.”

“Thank you,” I say, “for everything.”

I’ve never been angry _with_ Agatha for cheating on me with Baz through the whole time we were dating. (I do see flirting as cheating.)

Truth be told, I wanted Agatha for all the wrong reasons. I was never in love with her. She wasn’t with me either. She is so beautiful, almost unreal, I thought I was untouchable next to her. (I wasn’t; bad things still kept happening to me.) That’s not love. 

Agatha was a confused teenager. I was too. I kept daydreaming about Baz while I was with her (even if I refused to acknowledge that to myself). I am at fault for our relationship not working out as much as she is. 

“Everything finally makes sense,” Agatha says, smiling.

“It does,” I kiss her on the cheek, as a silent apology for all the wrong I’ve done.

I look over at Baz. I’ve never thought I’m untouchable next to him. I still don’t. I am in more danger with Baz than with anyone else, because he has my heart. But I'm not afraid. I’m happy instead. 

And whatever life throws at me now, I’m ready to handle it because I have Baz. Bad things have less power over you, when the person you love the most, shares your burden.

# BAZ

”Don't you forget about me, boyo, now that you're married,” my aunt tells me, holding me in an iron grip. (I wasn't planning on running away.)

“Not likely since we live one flat away from you.” We ended up moving again, when a spot opened up in her building.

“You are eating Sunday dinner next week at mine. I’ll cook.” Fiona is relentless. 

“You don’t know how to cook,” I accuse and can't help but chuckle.

“I’ve been practising,” she sneers. “Besides, I can order in.” 

My aunt took a leave from her work for the Coven and is using her free time to torment me. She and Simon are now as thick as thieves. I am fairly convinced they are plotting against me in one manner or another. (I do see the irony of this.)

When Fiona finally releases me, I walk over to Shepard, giving Simon some time with Agatha. She flew in from America for the wedding. 

It meant a lot to both Simon and me. (I've let go of my animosity towards her. Not enough to call her my best friend, but enough to call her a friend.)

Shep and I bonded rather well since that terrible trip to America. That was a hard time for all of us. Simon was pulling away without me understanding why. Bunce was in pain. Agatha kidnapped.

The only reason we survived it all and came home in one piece is thanks to Shep’s knowledge and experience. 

But that isn't why we became close friends. 

Shep was the one to support me the most throughout the whole trip and later as well. I won’t ever forget that. 

He’s easy going and most certainly isn’t the judgy type. 

“Congratulations, man,” he says and pulls me into a hug. I chuckle at his American expression. 

I’ve been getting better at hugging humans. I think Simon not seeing me as a monster made the greatest difference. And Simon insisting on my constant feeding leaves me less hungry for blood.

“Thank you, Shep.”

“I’m glad I came here with you guys,” Shep clears his throat and looks over to Bunce. “It’s been life changing.”

Shepard thrives in Britain. He makes friends as easily as I make enemies. 

I want to say something to him. So he'll know how important his friendship is and how good he is for Bunce. 

However, I’m awkward around people I care about, less composed. And not always good with saying what I mean.

“Bunce’s taste sure changed for the better,” I utter and hope I’m not being completely insensitive, “got herself a good guy.” 

Shep is funny. And smart. And caring. They don’t need my approval, but they got it regardless. 

“Oh yeah,” he grins widely, “I hear the second time’s a charm.”

I glance over at Simon, and smile, “I wouldn’t know.”

Shep snorts and pulls me into another hug. I let him. 

“Good luck,” I add softly. 

“Don’t need it,” Shep answers and laughs. 

# SIMON

When Penny takes Agatha’s place, I lean in and hug her. It’s still awkward for me to embrace, even her. I do it anyway. 

When we pull apart, she takes my hand.

“I’m so happy for you and Baz,” she says and might even be teary-eyed. “I always knew this would end well.”

“You thought Baz was plotting,” I protest.

“No, Simon,” she argues, “ _you_ thought Basil was plotting. I thought he didn’t like you, and I was wrong.”

I laugh. Penny admitting she was wrong doesn’t happen often. “Or, well, he loves you, so perhaps I was right all along.”

And there it is. “Can’t Baz both love me _and_ like me?” I ask, teasingly.

Penny raises her eyebrow at me, “You are becoming demanding, I see.”

“I might be,” I am part grinning, part laughing now. I demand good things nowadays, not only from myself but from others too — towards _me_. 

Therapy has been good for me. It helped me see that I needed to love Baz _and_ myself, not only him. 

I couldn't treat him the right way until I learned how to treat myself better. It is still a struggle at times. However, the progress is undeniable. I don’t hurt Baz any more. He doesn’t hurt me either; he never did.

I give Penny one last smile and toss the bouquet, angling my arm just right. 

Shepard is beaming as he catches it. “You’re next,” I say.

He glances over at Penny and turns back to me. “Let me give you a hug, newly-wed.” 

“I have everything planned out already,” Shep tells me softly before giving me another hug. 

There are going to be plenty of those today — people touching me. I know I can survive even that as long as Baz is by my side.

“I’m glad for you and Penny,” I reply just as softly, so she won’t hear. I know it’s a secret. 

It is unclear if Penelope will be excited or will feel put out for not being able to join in on all the action of planning a proposal. (Shep already has one curse placed on him, he doesn't need another.)

Baz manages to untangle himself from Fiona and steps closer to me. I reach for his hand with mine. 

“How about we greet a few more people and get changed for the reception?” I suggest, as my tail coils around his wrist. 

“Splendid idea, love,” Baz says squeezing my hand.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12




	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, the final update took much longer time then I thought - too many last minutes re-writes. (Those of you who follow my other fics know this already all too well.)
> 
> This was my first COBB and my amazing and talented artist Roz and I had so much fun with it. But at the same time writing post WS and post CO, is a heavy emotional struggle for me. It opens up _too many_ old wounds and I get easily lost in all the pain. 
> 
> The next part of the series is going to be a fluffy one shot with rating E, to cure my black as coal soul.
> 
> Thank you, dear reader, for coming along on this journey and for all your kudos and comments. They mean the world to me. 💙
> 
> * * *

# SIMON

Baz and I leave for our hotel room to change suits for the reception and to have a bit of time for ourselves.

As soon as we are through the doors I step closer to Baz and my tail envelops his waist pulling him to me.

His hands come up around my waist and I sigh in contentment, cupping his cheek, looking into his beautiful grey eyes.

We are bound forever. I don’t know how, but I can _feel_ it, the bond and the magic.

“We’ve done it, love,” I state with all the pent up tension I had in me. So much to worry about and it all worked out. 

Baz’s dad and step mum and his siblings attended the wedding. I don't know what Fiona told him or did precisely, but Malcolm was polite after the ceremony and congratulated us personally. 

I know it meant a lot to Baz, even if he tried not to show it.

Baz leans his forehead against mine and exhales, letting his own worry out, now that it’s only the two of us. “ _Yes_.” 

“You can’t call me Snow now.” I'm not entirely sure why that's the first thing that comes out of my mouth. 

“Oh, I am well aware of that, love,” Baz chuckles, “what will I do?”

“I’m hoping you will survive,” I tease him back and kiss him breathless.

“I love you,” I say when we pull apart.

Baz smiles, “I love you too, Simon Grimm-Pitch.”

Then he helps me spell my wings. A few of our Normal friends from uni will attend the reception. Besides, with so many guests, it’d be easier to move around and to sit anyway. Hopefully, we will have some time to eat, with all the people constantly speaking to us.

We manage to change without snogging too much. (I know we're on a schedule.)

Fiona booked us this hotel room. We aren’t going home after the wedding and we will spend the night here instead. 

Honestly, it sounded like the best idea Baz’s aunt had ever had. I have a sneaking suspicion that by the time this day ends, we’ll both be dead on our feet.

And tomorrow we are leaving for our honeymoon. Baz doesn't know where. It’s secluded enough that Baz and I will be able to do what we wish. I might even fly for a bit, if the weather allows it.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Baz says and gestures towards the bathroom. He's going to fix his hair. 

I smile and take his hand in mine, ”You're beautiful.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” he grins and I kiss him, even though we don't have that much time. 

“You take pleasure in looking better than anyone else,” I laugh in his mouth, kissing him some more. ”I don't mind. I want people to envy me.”

“It’s me that people will envy,” Baz murmurs through the kiss and it comes out breathless and desperate. And my self-control starts to crumble completely. 

“Simon,” Baz gasps as my hand slowly slides down his lower back. 

“Fuck the bloody schedule,” I practically growl. ”We need time to snog.”

The way Baz’s lips latch to mine is an answer enough for what his intentions are.

So we do just that. I start undressing Baz and caressing his neck, his chest… showering him with kisses.

* * *

Eventually we do get dressed for the second time, and Baz leaves to fix his hair. (He most definitely needs that now; he’ll spell mine later.)

In the meanwhile I walk over to the window, open it and inhale the breeze coming in from the sea. I watch the waves splash against the sand. 

The Atlantic Ocean is colder than the Pacific. We haven't been to the beach _yet_. Haven't had the time. No doubt we’ll be tired after the reception. Maybe tomorrow. 

I can't help but remember that unfortunate trip we took 4 years ago. 

I had this idea about America.…

That I’d find myself there.

Of course it didn't work. I couldn't find myself, because I wasn't actually looking. 

If I had wanted to _know_ myself, I wouldn't have quit therapy. 

I wasn't capable of seeing it at that moment. 

And then things and catastrophe were happening there just like they did at home. It was a trip, not a fairy tale.

I keep remembering all the painful parts, Baz and I on the beach. Him asking me not to break his heart. (I know now that's what was happening.) 

But now that memory is something else. That whole scene feels different. It wasn't the end, it was a beginning. 

We simply needed to get to know ourselves, love ourselves before we could fully devote to each other. Except there wasn't anything simple about it. It took time and tears and hard work. 

But now we're here. We’re finally _here_.

We've come full circle, Baz and I. 

And as I listen to the sounds of the waves, I realize how comforting they are to me now. 

It's more than Iove, what I feel for Baz. Or, well, a different kind, a better one. 

Baz is my best friend. I have Penny, Shep, Fiona, and even Agatha a skype call away; that is all great. But Baz has become my best friend. I don't know how that happened. But it did. 

Somewhere along the line, I figured out that we aren't that different. I enjoy spending time with him. Watching him get excited over museums, and ancient books. It warms my heart and I want to be there to share his joy. 

I want to go on adventures with Baz. Not the kind we grew up with, the kind we were forced into; but civilised, peaceful, _fun_.

I learned how to love him.

Baz never tries to change me, he lets me be just the way I am. Even Penny hasn't had enough patience with me. 

The funny thing is, when no one is forcing me to do something, I can actually decide to do that on my own. 

Penny was my best friend. And my feelings for her didn't get weaker. It's just that my feelings for Baz became _stronger_. As it turns out there's enough space for that much love in my heart. Who knew? 

When I see something, Baz is the first person I want to tell. I think I did that even back at Watford; my mind would always drift towards him, like a magnet. I just never thought I could compare to him. He was so far away, never on the same level as me.

I thought the World of Mages was his, not mine. It's not true. And Baz is willing to share everything (he is even willing to share himself). More than that — he _wants_ to. 

I feel Baz step behind me, his hands ghost over my waist. I take them and wrap them around me, leaning into him, feeling his chest against my back, the pleasure and the safety it gives me.

”Everything alright, love?” he whispers in my ear.

”Not alright, it's...perfect,” I say and press my head back, trying to tilt it. Baz kisses my cheek and I close my eyes.

“ _Perfect_ ,”Baz repeats after me and I hear happiness in his voice.And I feel a smile on his lips.

“We’re home now,” I finally breathe out and it’s not about the place itself, we’ve never been here before. I desperately want to explain what I mean. Except Baz beats me to it. 

“You’re my one and only true home,” he says, and I know he understands. Words will never be easy to me. I have managed to say some parts of what I am feeling and thinking. Today more than ever before.

So instead of saying anything at all I turn around and take this opportunity to snog Baz again as much as I can before we leave our sanctuary. 

I am beyond happy over our wedding. Yet it feels as if this has already been a very long day. 

Even though I wouldn’t want to skip anything of what will follow; it does feel good to slow down for a short while. When it's just the two of us without all the other people.

Baz is wearing a black suit, similar to the one he was wearing at the vampire bar. That was the night we first kissed. I am wearing a darker grey suit myself. 

Both are Spencer Hart, because my husband is a snob. 

“You look stunning in a grey suit,” Baz tells me and I can’t help but grin, squeezing his hand slightly. 

“Do I, now?” I am not exactly the kind of person that needs to hear compliments but I enjoy them nonetheless. Especially when it has more personal meaning to it. 

Baz brushes my knuckles with his fingertips; his eyes locked with mine, burning right through me. 

“Yes, I always thought so,” he answers slowly and licks his lips. 

I know he enjoys seeing me in grey. That is the colour of Baz’s suit I borrowed and was wearing on the day I asked him to be my boyfriend. When I came back to Hampshire, to Baz, that Christmas. There might be more to it than that.

I bring our joined hands to my heart. 

“Grey does suit me the most — every inch,” I say and kiss him, longingly so he’ll know what I mean. 

(Even though I am working on saying things out loud, I still prefer actions to words.) 

I hold his hand, and we leave for our wedding reception. 

* * *

# BAZ

We get seated at a table next to Fiona and Bunce. 

“A glass of white wine for me,” Fiona says to a waiter that comes over to take our drinks order. I almost choke on my water. 

My aunt usually prefers something stronger. Double whiskey on the rocks, hold the ice, to be precise, and two glasses at once. Where is she going, today of all days?

I myself have accepted my body’s limitations when it comes to alcohol and simply avoid it. Besides there's nothing I need to forget by consuming alcohol. I want to remember every second of this day and each day to come.

Simon doesn't drink either. I think the taste of alcohol brings far too many painful memories. What I am surprised about is the fact that my aunt of all people isn't drinking much. That woman could drink the Devil himself under the table. 

”I have a long drive ahead of me tonight,” Fiona answers cryptically when I ask her about it.

”Fine, don't tell me,” I chuckle. I have bigger problems. I am more than sure that we won't get a chance to eat today. 

Simon and I haven’t even been here for 5 minutes and people are already circling us like vultures.

“Basilton, Simon,” my father says as he gets up and raises his glass, ”to the happy couple.”

This might have been the shortest wedding speech in the history of speeches. But at least he made an effort, looking almost _not_ completely uncomfortable. 

It's...well it means more than it should perhaps. He's here regardless.

When my aunt raises from her seat, I hold my breath for a moment, trying not to roll my eyes. 

I’m sure my ridiculous aunt is going to embarrass me and possibly Simon. And most definitely _herself_. 

“These two have been my headache for years,” she says and waves her hand at us. 

We’re up to a good start, I see. 

“Basil doesn't tell people things, you know. Not even me,” she continues speaking as I continue worrying. ”Despite him being my favourite nephew.”

“I'm your only nephew,” I mouth at her. My aunt waved her hand at me dismissively. 

“How was I supposed to know they were in love when Basilton told me he pushed Simon down the stairs?” Fiona is clearly asking rhetorically. (I sure hope so.) 

While people are laughing, Simon turns towards me and whispers, “You told your aunt that?”

I roll my eyes at both of them.

“Well, what was I supposed to say?” I whisper back. 

Simon knows by now that it was an accident. And he _believes_ me. Crowley, how far we’ve come.

“Basil, he hoards all of his secrets,” my aunt chuckles. “Didn't even tell me when they first started seeing each other five years ago.”

I will never hear the end of it, will I? 

“Jokes on you, boyo. Simon and I have secrets of our own now.”

I have deducted that much. I still have absolutely no idea what kind.

You’d think my aunt is drunk, the way she rambles. Except she's only had one glass of wine, (due to this mysterious trip she just has to make today of all days.) 

I think... I think she's happy and she doesn't know how to deal with it, how to express it other than with embarrassing ramblings. None of us are used to happiness. 

* * *

“So you've really been in love with each other since you were twelve?” Noah — Simon’s Normal classmate and a friend asks as he sits down next to us. 

What has Simon been telling people? 

I can’t say I disapprove of this particular statement. Perhaps it makes me vain for wanting people to know about us. I straighten my back; proud of my love for Simon. 

“Well, I certainly was,” I chuckle, feeling at ease despite all the chaos around us, Simon’s hand in mine grounding me. I glance over at my husband, “This one took his sweet time.”

Simon laughs, and it’s the melody I’ll never get tired of listening to. Nothing I can play on the violin could ever compare. 

There are certainly other sounds from Simon’s lips that might do as much. And yet, seeing him _this_ happy is the most important part for me. 

“I was playing hard to get,” he announces and I laugh too. “But I welcomed all and any advances.”

“My darling Simon. You were as impenetrable as a fortress,” I argue. 

What can I say, I enjoy a good debate with my husband.

“I was an open book. And you didn't make any moves,” he shrugs. 

I came to love his shrugs. (They mean that Simon is engaging me.)

“I've made plenty of moves.”

“No you haven't,” he insists. ”Name one.”

“Chimera, fifth year,” I accidentally blurt out, forgetting we aren’t alone. It is easy to do so when looking into Simon’s blue eyes and getting lost in them to the point of being found by him, being known by him, being completely his and him being mine.

“What’s that?” Noah asks.

“I told Simon a scary ghost story,” I save my poor behaviour with a reasonable enough explanation.

He laughs, “Oh, yeah, that’ll get you a bloke.”

“Baz isn’t really good at flirting,” Simon records. Except his eyes are so intensely locked into mine it feels as though he is gifting me with the best compliment ever.

“He really isn't,” I hear Niall's voice behind me. ”If only you knew all the embarrassing things Baz has done through the years.”

“Can't wait to hear everything about that,” Noah says and it’s a struggle not to roll my eyes.

“Well... I can’t be perfect at everything, now, can I?” I answer without looking away from Simon. 

“Except you are,” Simon swallows and to this day, that is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. 

I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. 

Crowley. We are married and I am still feeling like the lovesick schoolboy I was the first time Simon kissed me. 

I can’t feel shame over that. Being _with_ Simon is a gift I never thought I deserved. I will always love him. My love has only gotten stronger with time.

Noah shakes his head, “You are disgustingly in love. Leaves the rest of us envious.”

“Well, I for one always wished for people to be envious of my happiness,” I say, thinking how I spent years convinced I was to live my whole life in misery, (if I even had a life to begin with.) 

“Me too,” Simon chimes in and we both laugh, watching each other.

“You two are the definition of insufferable husbands, you know that right?” Noah rolls his eyes at us. 

“They are,” Niall chimes in, patting me on the shoulder, in what I am assuming is a purely condescending manner. 

“There’s Dev. Come on, we’ll tell you all about that time Baz pushed Simon down the stairs.”

Noah missed my aunt’s speech but it seems Niall and Dev are determined to make sure everyone has heard this story. 

Noah snorts, ”Surely not. Baz didn't, did he?” 

He looks at us before walking away, “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

We wave him off, awaiting another tactical assault from the next friend.

There aren't many guests from Watford at our wedding. 

People have abandoned Simon after he sacrificed his magic to save our realm. They only ever wanted him for that one thing after all. 

Simon asked if there was anyone I wanted to invite. I only suggested Niall and Dev. We’ve reconnected after the initial shock of me getting together with Simon. 

As it turns out they couldn't forgive my betrayal when they thought Simon and I became friends. However, after our relationship became public, things changed.

* * *

# SIMON

A little while later when all the toasts and most of the congratulations are done, we walk out to the patio where people will be dancing shortly. We are still holding hands. (I am not letting go of Baz unless I have to.)

It’s the most wonderful and unexpected déjà vu — being on a dance floor together. With a few differences. 

We are happy now. And married. I also took some dance classes and hopefully will manage not to trip over myself. 

“At the very least I know how to stand properly now, without you needing to explain,” I tell Baz, somewhat proud of myself as I put my right hand on his shoulder, stepping closer.

“You’re doing great, love,” Baz smiles and presses his left hand into my back. 

“You just have to say it because we’re married and you can’t laugh at me anymore,” I tease. 

“I can assure you I will always laugh at you when the situation presents itself.”

I press Baz to me and kiss his cheek. “The feeling is mutual, darling.”

Nick Cave's “Into Your Arms” comes up — the song that played at Baz’s leavers ball. Fiona’s favourite and now mine too. I asked her to arrange for it to play for our first dance.

When Baz hears it, he inhales slowly and hides his tears in my hair. I’m too emotional myself and so I hold him tight, giving us both a moment.

That night of the leavers ball feels almost like a lifetime ago. We’ve been through the biggest battle of our lives since then — _our own_ , inside our minds. 

We’re both better and stronger now. We communicate and listen to each other. We truly are ready for the life that awaits us. 

“I'm ready to grow old with you,” I admit, knowing how silly that might sound. 

Except Baz isn't laughing. He turns to me, his face so close to mine. Fresh tears run down his cheeks. I kiss them away, no matter who's watching. 

“I'm ready too, love,” he finally says, his lower lip trembles slightly. 

We won't have forever _here_. But I do know we will be together for eternity. Baz has a soul. Nothing will ever change that. 

My lips meet his. Cold lips, cold mouth. And yet I've never felt so much warmth from a person before.

We are happy — _together_. Only one last thing missing. Today I am going to tell Baz everything, as I promised myself I would do.

When we pull apart and he looks at me again, I tighten my hold on him. 

“I choose you,” I say. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, I choose you.” 

Something settles inside me from opening up to him this much. 

This means even more than my poem earlier. As if a crucial missing piece has finally fallen into place. I won’t stop. From now on I will tell Baz everything I feel.

“Simon…” Baz whispers, and kisses me slowly and softly. 

Nothing can ever feel as wonderful. Him kissing me feels good now, and I think it always will. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 💙


End file.
